“I must see your father about this,” said the Doctor, with an ominous wag of his head. “Do, please,” replied Zeb; “I don’t know what’s to become of Mr. Brayton, who seems a deserving young man, or those poor boys from the city.” The Doctor gazed very hard at Zeb through his spectacles, and half wished that he had his wife with him; but the youth said something about his own cows to the effect that he hoped the ghosts would let them alone, and marched steadily away up the street. “Remarkable!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Superstition assailing the uneducated intellect of even this favored generation. This must be looked to. I wonder what Mrs. Dryer will say now?” He wondered less an hour or so later, when he consulted his beloved Dorothy Jane in the presence of Euphemia. “Father,” said Zeb to the deacon, when he came back from the cow pasture, “if old Sol comes to consult you about supernatural noises and appearances at the Academy, I wish you would humor him a little.” “Zebedee, what’s up now?” “Hard to tell,” said Zeb. “Old Sol seems unable to comprehend how that bell managed to rope in his dun heifer.” “I don’t wonder,” replied the deacon, with a very sharp look at his heir; but he and Mrs. Fuller had been talking the matter over, and had decided not to press Zeb too closely about it. “I’m doing all I can for this village,” said Zeb to himself, that night, “but I fear an increase of activity will shortly be demanded.” CHAPTER XIX A NOCTURNAL ESCAPADE The village of Ogleport was satisfactorily quiet, and as dark as the occasion called for, when Bar Vernon and Val Manning, with their shoes fastened to their waistbands, crept noiselessly out on the back roof. There was not the least difficulty in getting into the branches of the maple, or from them to the ground below. Then the shoes were hurriedly put on, and the two boys were off through the garden, down to the river bank, and from thence it was easy enough to gain one of the lower crossroads without being seen. Half a mile of brisk walking in the direction of the lake brought them to the clump of bushes where they had hidden the joint product of their own skill and that of Puff Evans. A curious thing it was. A sort of “van” or wing about three feet square, made of a wooden frame with cotton cloth stretched across it, and one side of the frame swung easily in a pair of “journal holes” bored in another and stronger frame. Below the wing, at right angles to the outside frame, a sort of arm reached down about two inches. “I don’t see how you’ll make it work,” said Val, “but I suppose you do.” “Show you when we get there,” said Bar. “Now we must make for the sheds.” By the time the two boys reached the rear of the Academy there was not a soul stirring in all Ogleport. Even Dr. Dryer felt safe about the bell, now that the rope had been removed, and he had looked to the doors and windows for himself, that afternoon. “Are you a good climber, Val?” asked Bar. “Not very.”